by Rob Summers
Doubt,
Must warn you quickly. That Reason is more mouthy and entirely too happy about him staying here. The two of them are as thick as thieves which they certainly must be and always in the library trying to turn him against me. And she runs off when she pleases to see his family and her doctor as she calls him, as if she could fool anyone. It’s clear enough what their real relationship must be. She might at least have stayed with her own kind. The servants are all out of control. I don’t dare leave my room but Mr. Pride is being won over by them. Be sure to destroy this note. Besides all this there’s that big policeman here every day, but maybe he can restore some sort of order to the chaos.
—Worry
P.S. Confusion says she has finished the TV room and her bedroom.
Doubt reread the note, concentrating on the hint concerning some person whose stay in the house had pleased Reason. She rose and dressed shakily, consumed with a desire to find out for herself the state of things. Nothing could be worse than her imaginings, which told her that Humility and Faith had invaded with all their children.
First she went to the front hall and peered out one of the narrow window strips beside the front door, half expecting to see Humility’s huge, decrepit Buick parked at the curb. Finding nothing of the kind, she began to relax and was just going to go looking for Worry when she was distracted by the sound of a woman’s laughter coming from the sitting room.
Doubt loved to eavesdrop. Upon arriving at the house, she had had a servant oil the hinges of every door for just such opportunities as this. She slipped over to the door and, finding it slightly ajar, slowly opened it several more inches. She discovered Reason with her back to the door, seated casually on the arm of a chair, and talking on the telephone.
“Yes, he stayed overnight,” Reason said happily. “Oh, she’s still sick in bed, so I don’t suppose she even knows. Yes, it breaks my heart.” She laughed. “A change? You wouldn’t believe it. And grandfather is doing better every day. Huh?” She laughed again. “When? Oh yes, no problem. I’m free to come and go as I please now, and I quit taking classes so—OK, sure thing. Can’t wait. Oh well, thanks for saying it. See you there.”
Reason put down the phone, turned, and started. “Doubt! You’re up.”
Doubt advanced on her. “Who were you talking to? Don’t try to lie to me. I’ll find out.”
Reason hesitated. “I never lie. That was my counselor Pastor Truth.”
“Of course. I should have known by your inane giggling that this was someone with whom you have a professional relationship.”
Reason looked away with compressed lips.
“And I gather that you were making a date, oh pardon me, I mean an appointment with the pastor?”
“Yes, an appointment.”
The end of Doubt’s little nose quivered. “How convenient that he could work you in among all his commitments in gutters and jail cells.”
Her victim walked toward the door.
“I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
Reason turned stiffly. “Ma’am, I’m not subject to your dismissal. While you and cousin Pride are indisposed, I’m in charge of the house. If you want to see Pride about that, he’s upstairs in the library. Now I have some things to attend to, but if you want to discuss this any more, I’ll be up there in a few minutes.”
She went out, leaving Doubt with a great quantity of sarcastic harangue left over. Doubt went to the windows and savagely pulled shut the heavy drapes. Then she headed for the stairs.
Arriving on the third floor, she looked into the library. Confusion’s hand had not yet stirred the dust from the several thousand books there. The low shelving unit in the midst of the room was still adorned only with a globe and an open, unabridged dictionary on a stand; and on the walls the rows of books still climbed to the ceiling in level rows. The policeman was there, however, and that changed everything.
Pain was not in uniform, but lounged on the window seat in wrinkled slacks and a sleeveless undershirt, reading the newspaper. He was huge and gray and wore the cheerful face of a dishonest poker player. Beside him lay his walkie-talkie with its antenna extended and a small red light glowing from its center.
On the other side of the room, as far from Pain as possible, sat Pride. He was slumped in an easy chair, still in his morning robe, his long legs thrust out and his feet dressed in decrepit slippers. He stared at his lap and absently rubbed in turn a worn spot on the chair arm and his own clenched brow. When he raised his arm, his sleeve dropped down to reveal the electronic bracelet.
Pain laughed at something in the paper and then looked up at Pride, noted with satisfaction a slight contraction of Pride’s shoulders, and returned to the funnies.
Noticing Doubt in the doorway, Pride wearily motioned for her to enter, and when she came and stood by his chair, clutched her hand. Pain put down his paper to watch them.
“Devil of a day, isn’t it?” said Pride with a weak smile. “I haven’t felt like doing much of anything. I could be answering letters—Mom and Dad wrote from Bangkok.... Uh, you know, Doubt, you may be out of bed today, but you don’t look well, not a bit.”
She firmly withdrew her hand. “Don’t feel bad about not doing anything,” she said. “You must save your strength, dear. Just let that darling little cousin of yours run everything while you sit in here and lick your wounds. Perhaps you had best sign the place over to her in return for perpetual care.”
Ignoring the burning in her cheeks, Doubt scrutinized Pride’s face. What she saw was slack misery, indifference. “I’m not going to sign the place over to Reason,” he said calmly.
She shivered. Her sarcasm had collided with a mad truth, as if she had suggested that he burn the house down and he had replied that after serious consideration he had decided against it. Pride was considering giving up to Reason.
“But I’ve been listening to her,” Pride continued. “What else do I have to do? She comes up here and talks about—oh, about things people say to her—the Orchards.”
“She’s a traitor, you fool,” Doubt said. “How can you even allow her to talk to the same people who want to throw us out? Are you, are you so weak and contemptible that you’ll just let them do it?”
Pride’s face showed no trace of resistance. “It’s not as if we were doing much with the place anyway,” he said. “It’s just a prison.”
Patrolman Pain’s walkie-talkie suddenly whooshed alive and over a blur of static asked loudly, “Do you read, 709?”
Pain answered, “709, I read.”
“We want to test prisoner 503’s leash.”
“He’s here.” Pain grinned broadly.
“Ten seconds.”
Pride clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Momentarily a shrill, extended note leaped from his electronic bracelet. Seconds passed.
“Tell them it works,” Pride said, his face contorted. “What are you waiting for?”
Pain laughed. “You’d think you could feel it, the way you act, Dandy.”
“709?”
Pain thumbed the walkie-talkie button. “I read. It’s loud and clear.”
“Over, 709.”
The shrill note stopped. Pain chuckled and returned to his newspaper, but Pride still sat with tense limbs and closed eyes.
“God, I hate that,” he whispered to Doubt. “They do it every day.”
“Open your eyes and look at me,” Doubt said severely. He did so. “Now this sickening whining has got to stop. So you got arrested. That was just a fluke, something you can put behind you in less than a year. You’ll make a name for yourself; you’ll find some other love interest; you’ll—”
Pride gently waved his hand at her, signaling her to stop. “The world is still a twisted, ugly place, and I’ve got to live in it,” he said. “So when Reason started talking to me about religion, well, I laughed at first, but—”
“You are such a bore when you are despa
iring! You have to get on with life. And religion! You’ve had it all your life. When have you ever not had religion? And you’re going to sit here all winter and not give Pastor Hypocrisy one call? But I suppose you’re referring to Reason’s sweetheart, aren’t you? And to the Orchards?”
Pride leaned forward and spoke in a confidential whisper. “I’d do almost anything to get rid of him.” He shot a glance at Pain. “The Orchards are from another country; they’ve got different laws. So who knows? Maybe they could—”
“You gullible—”
“Well, who knows? You don’t know what he’s put me through. He’s always here when he’s not on patrol, and he’s always watching me. My stomach’s in knots and I have this tic at the corner of my eye. And the Orchards wouldn’t throw me out, you know. All they want is the house, and they say I can defect to Heaven and keep on living here. Well, maybe it’s true.”
“Lies! You can’t save yourself by turning to foreign fanatics. Reason has already been seduced by them; don’t you crumble too. They’re out to enslave you. They’re—”
“Doubt, they’re—”
“What?”
She turned and found Reason in the doorway and beside her a tall man. He stood relaxed, a broad shouldered man in blue jeans and a polo shirt. He seemed in his early forties, but no trace of gray was in his sandy hair, and his attentive look was as gentle and fresh as that of a boy.
Doubt recognized him and wished him dead.
“I guess I never told you,” said Pride guiltily. “Not long after my arrest, Humility here showed up for a visit. We had a long talk, and he’s been dropping in ever since. Recently, he’s even stayed overnight.”
Humility held out his big hand. To her own surprise, something like a snarl escaped Doubt’s lips.
“Doubt!” Pride exclaimed.
With an effort she composed her face.
Meanwhile, the policeman gathered himself and, looking unhappily at Humility, edged toward the door until, without turning his back, he went out.
Doubt remained in the room, choked silent with fear and disgust.